The Punisher: Retaliation
by MarcellusMiro66
Summary: "Corey Riffin is dead. Call me...The Punisher." / On July 16th 2015, four teenagers assault the Tri-State Midsummer Festival, leaving 27 people dead, 72 people injured, and 1 girl raped. That girl is Isabella Garcia Shapiro. Both Corey and Phineas seek revenge. Both take different paths. Both reshape the future of Danville.
1. Chapter 1: Pretentious Prologue

Hi, everyone, MarcellusMiro66 here! This is the seventh installment of the _Titans_ _Alliance_ series. Taking a page from the 2004 film adaptation of the _Punisher_ (which pays homage to the action films of the 1960s and the 1970s, such as the _Dirty_ _Harry_ series, _The_ _Getaway_ , _The Good, the Bad, and the_ _Ugly_ , _T_ _he_ _Godfather_ , _Bonnie_ _and_ _Clyde_ , and _Mad_ _Max_ ), I'm paying homage to the action films of the 1970s to the mid 2010s.

The story sees Corey Riffin as the Punisher as he avenges the rape of his friend. As he does so, he delves into the backstories of his deceased parents. The title is a play on _The Raid: Redemption_.

The first chapter in its majority is a major 'What If?' on **GROJBANDIAN180** 's _Just_ _Wanna_ _Scream_ ; the entire story is a Potential Crossover between _Grojband_ and _Phineas_ _and_ _Ferb_.

Enjoy! If you can...

* * *

 **(Tuesday, October 7th 2014)**

 **(12N)**

Corey Riffin was a 18-year-old high school student with black eyes and hair (it was formerly blue). He wore a blue denim jacket above a black long sleeve shirt, a pair of black and white high top sneakers, and a brown beanie. His preferred lunch was a plain slice of pepperoni with loaded fries and a Coke bottle. He sat outside on the bleachers after the table he usually sat by himself was crowded with unwelcome students. At the end were the Newmans, spying on him and not exactly incognito. Their intention was to get their hands on Corey's diary, which supposedly harbored his serious secrets and ludicrous lyrics, revealed through this cursory chatter:

"Question: Why are we stalking Riffin? I thought we were done with him when Grojband was done..."

"It's that notebook of his; I need to know what's inside it. Probably his diary or something."

"I don't think so, Carrie. Back in the day, Riffin didn't have a diary – "

"Okay, fine. Still, that doesn't mean I should stop... Hey, where's Lens?"

"He's talking to his brother Zach, telling him that Riffin is gonna beat him up."

Zach was ticked off to say the least and, extending his throwing arm, hurled a football at Corey, who glanced up to find a football collide with his face.

 **BAM!**

Corey tumbled down the bleachers and landed face first into the ground; his diary didn't flew toward the Newmans like it should have. His vision consisted of darkness until he was flipped over by Principal Jackson and her assistant. As he attempted to open his eyes, he only listened through his ears; what he heard was the enitre football team, the Newmans, and many of the students in range cackling and chortling all the same. The faculty and staff arrived and began to break up the crowd, unaware of the real madness about to break out.

Corey, as he stood up, felt an unfamiliar feeling boil in his stomach: it was one of pure anger.

 **BAM!**

It was because of this that Corey unleashed his fury onto the one who threw the fucking football in the fucking first place: Zach Sill. Balling his hands into fists, he threw a punch of his own, stunning and disorienting him. As he tackled him to the ground, laughs reverted to cheers as the black-haired senior deliver a beating to the hot-headed jock while the adults attempted to break up the fight. The students' cheers abruptly ceased when they realized that this particular student meant business; blood splattered in every direction as Corey deliver blow after blow of bombastic bloodiness –

"Corey, _please_! He said he's _sorry_!"

It was because of this that Corey finally ceased his beatdown. His eyes blinked and they laid on the picture he had painted. Unknowingly horrified by the way that this scuffle escalated quickly (just as the rest of the students and staff were), he feigned ignorance and frowned, slowly stand up and looking down upon a mumbling and muttering mess of a former badass turned pussy. He turned tail and walked away from Zach and the rest of the school, taking up his backpack and placing down his notebook as he did so.

From the outside city limits of Peaceville to the inside city limits of Chicago, Corey found the Hawthorne Grill just like that. It was a delicious throwback to diners with a 70s vibe; it was precariously similar to the **Jack Rabbit Slim's** from _Pulp_ _Fiction_ , a suspicion confirmed when he entered inside. When he did, he was escorted to a table built in a car and ordered a bacon cheeseburger with a side of steak fries and a vanilla milkshake. He made no mistake of not leaving his wallet at home and pulled it out for a $20.

"Excuse me, is somebody else sitting with you?"

Corey noticed the subtly in the voice and glanced up to find himself looking at the most beautiful girl since Laney. She had black hair (in a ponytail), blue eyes, and an outfit consisting of a pink 3/4 sleeve shirt with a similar belt, white pants, and pink sneakers. She clutched a tray holding the mirror equivalent of his entrée, sincerely smiling as she did so.

"No...not at all," Corey cocked his head and allowed the girl to sit down, "Corey Riffin."

Corey stuck out his hand for her to shake, which she did, "Isabella. Isabella Garcia-Shapiro."

For a few hours, the two of them conversed with each other and even shared a dance on the dance floor. When the clock struck seven, the couple emerged from the diner a laughing stock of a mess. Their laughter had died down and a somehow solemn silence followed,

"Listen, Corey...about what happened to you...I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I may have deserved that."

"You deserved to have your ass handed to you by your former friends?"

"...Okay, you may have a point. Still, it's my fault for almost burning down the neighborhood."

"Maybe, but there's a thing called redemption, Corey. It's not too late to redeem yourself."

With that, Isabella delivered a light peck on Corey's cheek, smiling sincerely before turning tail and leaving him standing dumbfoundedly in the middle of the sidewalk. He brought a hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly and began to smile as well.

That had been nine months ago.

* * *

 **(Thursday, July 16th 2015)**

 **(12N)**

Nine months later, Corey had remained in Peaceville and got past the last year of high school. However, even after those nine months, he could not forget Isabella and that one wonderful night. In fact, how could he not remember? She was the one reason why he was still alive to this day. She breathed new life into him and that kiss was the cherry on top of his rejuvenation. To him, it had a bittersweet taste to the sensation; he wouldn't see her again because of it.

That is, until he turned on the TV.

 _"This just in: Four young men armed with a multitude of weapons arrived at the Mid-Summer's Festival in Danville at exactly 12:00PM and opened fire on attendants. The terror lasted for approximately 111 minutes before they escaped with a victim by the name of Isabella Garcia-Shapiro."_

Corey, who had just finished taking a shower, could look on the news report in convenient bewilderment. He instantly reached for the remote and turned up the volume to its max. He watched in shock as a picture of Isabella was displayed on the small screen; his shock turned into horror as he listened to the full details of the report. His horror eventually turned into determination as his hands balled up into fists, an action repeated not long ago.

Corey packed up the remnants of his clothes in his suitcase before dressing up in all black: a leather coat, a long-sleeve collared shirt, a pair of black jeans, and a pair of flat-bottomed boots, with the exception of a white undershirt. He took up his suitcase and headed out to his 1970 Dodge Charger. Turning over the engine, he drove off and prepared for a three day drive from Peaceville to Danville, the path of which he placed on his GPS.

Corey needed to see Isabella again. He just had to.

* * *

 **(6:00PM)**

 ** _"Please! Please don't kill me!"_**

 _ **"Oh, darling...I'm not gonna kill ya,"** the masked man feigned reassurance before maliciously smirking and brandishing a camera in one hand, a razor in the other; three other men looked on in the background in gratuitous glee,_

 ** _"I'm just gonna hurt ya – really, really bad."_**


	2. Chapter 2: Feigned Fate

**(Friday, July 17th 2015)**

 **(12N)**

It had a day – _one_ day – since her ruthless rape and subsequent hospitalization.

It had been so relatively rare for the city of Royal Woods to be hit with such a crucial and critical crime that the majority of its entirety had virtually visited her in the hospital and even waited outside, awaiting further information on her current condition. The girl was only 10 years of age when the outraging offense occurred.

The boy was also only 10 years of age when said outraging offense occurred. Right in front of his very eyes.

He could only lay down on his bed in dejected dismay. He could only curl up into a ball and sadly sigh. He could only do nothing but hear the screams of the girl he failed to save relentlessly ring over and over again in his head.

He wanted to find the person who did this to her and confront that person personally.

He wanted to personally end that person's life. A Glock 17 would do the job just fine.

* * *

 **(Saturday, July 18th 2015)**

 **(7:00PM)**

It had been two days – _two_ days – since her ruthless rape and subsequent hospitalization. Each and every one of his family members could see the poor boy's grief, most notably the fact that he went to sleep early for the first time in forever. He wanted to sleep his sorrows away from himself, but he couldn't. Instead, he found himself staring blankly at the ceiling and – after a few minutes in – a small box labeled for him upon hearing his window tap.

He found an assortment of items inside. This included a black blazer, a light blue long-sleeve collared shirt, a dark blue vest, a standard orange tie, a pair of black dress pants with shoes, and a handgun with extra ammunition inside. His eyes widened and he picked up the pistol; attached to the slide was a folded note, which read in bold italics:

 ** _It's A Start. Tyler Garrison, Andrew Radeson, Gabriel Vladmirescus, and Benjamin Sweetwater. That last person was forced to, so I wouldn't kill him just yet._**

 ** _\- Your Anon-A-Miss Associate_**

The boy found himself suddenly smiling for the first time in two days. He examined the gun, a Glock 18C, and the outfit. His smile reverted from immature to intending. He nodded in understanding of what this _Anon-A-Miss_ person wanted him to do.

Lincoln Loud would have his vengeance.

* * *

 **(Sunday, July 19th 2015)**

 **(12N)**

It had been three days – _three_ days – since her ruthless rape and subsequent hospitalization.

Three days later – considering his driving – Corey arrived in Danville and, after a few information trading, the hospital in which Isabella was held. He was greeted by a crowd of her friends (hopefully) and her parents sitting nearest the room door. The one thing he noticed was their body language: some crumpled up into a ball, others buried their face into their hands, and her parents were sobbing their sorrows away. Well, her mom was, anyway. Her father wasn't, but his eyes showed more pain and hurt than those who were running out of tears.

Corey slowly approached and leaned his head against the doorframe. Like Isabella's father, he couldn't cry nor wanted to. He just closed his eyes and contemplated about a time where it was much simpler. A much simpler time where superheroes reigned supreme and not the supervillains. That time was centrally contributed by the team known as the Titans Alliance. Unlike the Teen Titans – their impacted influence – they had the decency to save innocent civilians here and there. However, thanks to the idiotic decisions made by the Justice League and the Teen Titans, the deaths of said civilians had soared sky high sharply. And unlike him, the Titans didn't know how to handle the situation like a true hero would.

If only he was an actual hero and the balls to show it.

"Are you an friend?"

Corey blinked his eyes open and slowly shifted to find a boy with a weird-ass shaped head looking at him with concern,

"You have a weird shaped head."

Phineas shrugged and only slightly smiled, "So I've been told. You a friend?"

"I'm not exactly sure. We only just met one time. If anything, it's just that." Corey didn't know how to carry that conversation on, so he moved on to another, "Did the authorities catch the not-so-responsible ones?"

"No, not yet," Phineas shook his head, "The city's been placed on citywide alert, but I doubt that the people responsible are still in Danville."

"Obviously. That makes them more dangerous. They could be right under our noses and we would be oblivious to their moves."

Phineas glanced toward the window and nodded, "I have faith in the police to find them."

"You do?" Corey suddenly felt her hand in his, but he shrugged it off as nothing more than a half-hearted hallucination.

"Is that a problem?"

"It's not that I don't trust them... I just don't trust anyone in general."

"Well, I'm sorry, but trust is quite possibly the primary priority above anything else in Danville, if not the nation or even the world. In fact, trust is what makes the police force in this city, not just a bunch of guys running around with guns!"

"The last time my parents trusted someone, they lost their lives! That alone prompted me to run around with a gun!"

At this point, everybody within the whole radius of the two boys were listening on in the conversation, whether or not they wanted to. The two boys wished for nothing except for two things: One, for Isabella to recover, and two, for the conversation in question not to go down this road. Corey and Phineas both saw hearted hostility in each other's eyes and both knew collective caring for her hidden in each sentence they spouted.

Corey turned his back towards Phineas and huffed heavily, "If Isabella dies, it's on their heads."

"Whose? The cops or the criminals?"

"Both. If the cops don't catch 'em, then the criminals will. If the criminals don't, then I will."

"What's the difference?"

"For me...it's a win-win, a good price, a fair trade. All that matters is that Isabella is avenged. That's that."

With that, Corey turned tail and walked away from Phineas, Isabella's room, and the hospital as a whole, his point made clear. He wanted to go back home and wallow in his misery and pain, but somehow Isabella was the cure to his disease he was suffering from. He gripped the driving wheel, gritted his teeth, and huffed heavily once more. He was going to find the fuckers responsible and personally escort them to the gates of Tartarus itself.

"They burned your house."

Corey's head shot up and glanced outside his car. The girl leaning against the hood was mostly likely 15 years of age, judging by some of her physical appearance. Most of it was marred by her...whatever. She was wearing all black, punk-like clothes and her spiky hair was cut many multiple lengths throughout her head; her hair in questions was dyed multiple shades of pink with a hint of black, brown, and purple thrown in for good measure. Plus, she's smoking cigarettes and she's fashioning eyeliner. _Too much of it,_ Corey thought before adding, _My genre of gal..._

Then he thought about what she said,

"Wait, what now?"

The girl puffed out smoke, "Don't make me repeat myself," before punctuating for emphasis, " _They_... _burned_... _your_... _house_."

Corey gradually took in the information before exiting his engine running car, " _They_?"

"The people who did this to Isabella. Sure, I condone the cataclysmic catastrophe that was inflicted on your house, but even I have standards." She dug into her pocket and pulled a folded fragment of paper, handing it over for Corey to read it over,

"I have arranged a place for you to stay for the time being."

Corey nodded in understanding and slipped the slip into his own pocket, "Thank you, but why are you doing this?"

The girl shrugged, "Like I said, even I have standards. Go."

Corey threw her an uncertain look before driving off, glancing at the girl in the rearview mirror. He eventually broke off and drove off to his destination. Once he was out of sight and sound, the girl's mentor appeared from the shadows. The girl had blue eyes, blue hair with purple streaks, light purple eyeliner, a black "witch's hat" style dress with a blue belt / matching buttons / purple long sleeves, a pair of purple leggings underneath a pair of black fishnet stockings, and a pair of black combat boots with matching fingerless gloves. Worn on the left-gloved hand was a pink diamond ring.

"Come..." Lacey smirked as she chambered a Glock 19, "We have work to do."


End file.
